17. Christian
My question hangs in the air, and I see a shift in Cataleya’s hazel eyes. It’s as if she’s allowed herself to suddenly become less guarded, less closed, and the thought of her opening up to me makes my heart beat a little faster.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” I reassure her.
I get the feeling she’ll either flee or fight if I try to push her too hard. Instead, I need to maintain my composure and make sure she feels safe. It’s the only way I’ll ever truly get through to her.
My reassurance seems to have put her at ease, though, because she shakes her head a little, dismissing the offer. When she finally opens her mouth to speak, I see she’s dropped the last vestiges of her mask. That the parts of her that I’ve been hoping to see are finally emerging.
“The real me actually cares a lot about making a difference,” she says, looking me straight in the eye. “I didn’t just go to New York to run away or to travel. I went because I wanted to see how the world works and what I can do to help people.”
I nod, not wanting to interrupt her. Now that she’s opening up to me, the best thing I can do is listen. Because, really, that’s all I want to do right now—just listen to her tell me more about herself, about who she is when no one’s watching, about what makes her tick.
“I wanted to do something bigger than myself,” she tells me with a flash of determination in her eyes. “That’s why I studied law in the first place. I wanted to give a voice to the voiceless and that was the best way I knew how. It’s always pained me to see people helpless, to see injustices carried out against the innocent. There’s so much needless suffering in the world. And even if my contribution was small, I wanted to offer my skills to balance things out.”
For a moment I’m speechless. It seems like the more I get to know Cataleya, the more layers I discover there are. She’s far from the party girl I thought I knew. She actually thinks deeply about her choices. Why then, I wonder, did she portray herself as so shallow?
I dismiss the question, determined to concentrate on the moment unfolding before me.
“Do you feel like you achieved that?” I ask, leaning forward a little.
To my relief, she doesn’t recoil. Instead, Cataleya sighs a little. I’m close enough that I can just feel her breath on my cheek, and it warms me.
“I do,” she replies. “I love my job and I’m good at it. That’s why I resisted the throne for so long. I can’t stand the idea of being confined to a castle. I want to be out there helping people, not worrying about which dress to wear to a royal event or how to wave at the public.”
“You’re good at that, though. Just saying.”
She lets out another sigh, this time exasperated. I can sense the frustration in her, and it reminds me of my own frustrations. Her words aren’t without merit.
“I think I understand how you’re feeling,” I admit, and Cataleya’s eyes brighten a little at my words.
“What do you mean?” she asks. “I thought you said you were born to do your job.”
I nod slowly, trying to figure out how to explain the complications of being a prince.
Around us, the gardens are quiet and, in contrast to the constant demands of the castle, it feels serene. Peaceful. That may also have something to do with Cataleya’s presence, though.
And this isn’t the first time I’ve felt it.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve found myself soothed by her company. At first I told myself it was just because our arrangement eased my troubles about the throne. That things were falling into place the way they needed to, politically speaking.
But the more time I spend with Cataleya, the more I wonder if there’s something else. I’ve been around other women before, but none of them have given me the same kind of peace that Cataleya does. Which is strange, considering Cataleya is the only one of them who has so strongly resisted me.
I study her face for a moment, taking in the curiosity in her eyes, the sweep of chestnut hair that frames her face so perfectly, her softly curved jawline that speaks of both gentleness and determination.
Suddenly though, I realize she’s waiting for an answer—about me being born to do my job.
“I was,” I continue with a nod. “And like I said, I know I can do it when the time comes. There’s no doubt about that. But you’re right, it is restrictive. I’ve been trained for this, which means I’m prepared. But it also means I’ve never experienced anything else. My brothers all went off to live their own lives. But I’ve committed myself to this kingdom. There’s a burden that comes with this role—one that I’m willing to bear for my people, but a burden all the same.”
Cataleya blinks a couple of times, as if she can’t quite believe it.
“Wow,” she finally says, letting out a breath. “I didn’t expect to hear that. I thought you were all Solvaria, all the time.”
I laugh at this, and she joins me, the tension broken with a little levity.
“I mean, I am,” I reaffirm. “I have to be. I didn’t have the same concessions that Alex, Caesar, Ishmael, and Cedrick did. They had the freedom to pursue their own dreams. My fate was always written for me. Like I said, I want to be King. But there is a part of me that wonders what life would be like if I’d been born into a normal family.”
“Me, too,” Cataleya admits with a small smile.
She doesn’t have to say it, I know she’s referring to the betrothal, and I give her an apologetic look.
“I guess neither of us ever really had the chance to escape our fates,” I ponder out loud.
“Well, some of us tried our hardest,” Cataleya replies, and I see humor in her eyes.
It makes me laugh. “Touché.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. In the silence that hangs between us, I feel myself growing fonder of Cataleya. There’s something about her. It might be her dry humor, or the mysteries I’m sure I’m yet to uncover.
It could even be something as simple as the way she’s looking at me right now, like she’s seeing past the prince and into the man I am. Whatever it is, it makes me want to take her in my arms.
I don’t, of course, but what she says next makes my heart skip a beat.
“What would you do if you weren’t Prince Christian? If you were just Christian, plain and simple?”
I have to wonder for a second if she was just reading my mind, if I did something to reveal my secret desire. But the way Cataleya looks at me—so open, so genuinely curious—tells me that no, it wasn’t me that prompted the question. It was her own walls finally beginning to fall away.
A moment of silence hangs between us, and it feels pregnant with meaning. At least for me. Her hazel eyes are still gazing at me, curious, inviting, and that thought I harbored just moments before is allowed room to blossom in the wake of her question.
As I ponder it, the desire to hold her close evolves into something more. I don’t just want to hold her, I want to taste her.
Without a word, I allow myself to succumb to the thought. I reach for Cataleya’s waist, pulling her close to me. I press my lips to hers and to my surprise, she yields willingly. My tongue parts her lips, and I feel the warmth of her mouth and the wetness of her tongue.
For what feels like minutes, we kiss, beginning slowly but soon becoming more and more passionate.
Finally, I pull away, my forehead still pressed to hers. I can feel the heat of her breath now, rising and falling, caressing my cheeks and my lips.
“As Christian, this is what I want,” I tell her.
Before she can answer, I kiss her again, letting my tongue explore her mouth and she responds in kind. Her hands grip my back, my neck, as mine hold her waist.
This is what I want, I think over and over. This is what I want.
And from what I can tell, this is what she wants, too.